If I were Kira
by Elliesaur
Summary: I am Kira. A loathsome murderer who takes the lives of those who he deems unworthy of life. At least, I think I am Kira. Ever since I found the notebook that kills people... There is no other explanation. Unless I am not the only holder of a Death Note.
1. Discovery

_This is my first actual fanfiction that I have decided not to delete 3 minutes after posting. It is set at the very beginning of Death Note right now, and shall work its way through the story. I apologize if you do not enjoy it, if there are any errors, or if I am inaccurate with the timeline and such, so I apologize in advance._

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The notebook fell from the sky at a ferocious rate, as if it were alive and desperately trying to find the ground. Of course, much to the dismay of people whose parachute fails at the last second, gravity always seems to have that effect on anything with mass, and this notebook was no exception. Its lust for the security of earth was satisfied with a light 'thwack', which was surprising considering the great altitude from which it had fallen.

The notebook's entry had not gone unnoticed. In fact, one pair of huge grey eyes paid extra special attention to the descent as opposed to the test lying on the desk in front of them. It was not as if the test was of any significance anyway. It had once again been a disappointment, little reason to go to the effort of lifting the pen. Child's play, or at least for those grey eyes. The watcher was the only one finished, and the other students were a mass of furrowed brows, exasperated sighs, and frustrated desk tapping.

The teacher did not pay any attention to the seemingly absent minded student, and simply paced the room, occasionally snatching the paper of a cheater and writing a big fat 'zero' all over the front page in obnoxious red ink that had the distinct smell of a new sharpie. This teacher prized himself on his vast collection of sharpies, each one itching to scrawl some kind of criticism upon a student's page.

_A dead bird? 9.3% possibility. A small meteor? 2.6% chance. What about space junk? Also 2.6%. As for an object falling from a plane or other overhead vehicle, that was the most likely possibility, coming in at 27%. Of course, it could have been something from a tree, or a high building, but seeing as there were none around it would have been less than a one percent possibility._ The grey eyes scanned the playground outside, ignoring the students on their spare at the basketball net, barely noticing the hooded figures in the shadows in the alcoves of the building catching a smoke, instead focusing at the foot of the mini oak tree that had been planted the previous year as a 'unifying act' to join the school and promote teamwork. Of course, the small tree had undergone a series of surgeries to fix the broken branches, spray paint, mutilation, and carvings that the students had been so courteous to bestow upon it.

A silent snort. What a rotten world, plagued by the evil of humanity, wrongdoings big and small. It was in schools where everything started. The students who had ravaged the tree without purpose had gone undiscovered, and so unpunished. Because of this, these students would evolve and harden, their crimes of petty vandalism turning to stealing, from stealing to murder. It was the simple and well walked path of which there was no stopping.

Another casual glance. Casual of course, it was obviously not that interesting. It was just an object. Objects fell from the sky every single day. If people were to investigate every little sighting, they would have no time for anything else. Heck, a child could learn _that _lesson by reading Chicken Little, the story of the falling sky. It was an acorn for goodness sakes! But of course, it was a little chicken, so it was understandable. Oh, and it wasa story. Artistic licence was often the only way to explain anything in the world of media.

Absent minded pen clicking. If you could call it that. For this mind was never empty. It was full of ideas, like not going to look at the mysterious object and –

_Ok that is it. I am going to look at it._

Standing up, handing in the paper, the teacher nodding, walking from the room, running down the hall, all a blur. Feet moving of their own accord, and nothing was going to stop them. They knew where the wanted to go, and that was precisely where they were going. The decrepit tree. The object. Where was it, the space junk, the bird, the mystery? Surveying the surroundings, the grey eyes were disappointed. There was nothing in sight. Of course, this did mean that there was an even bigger puzzle. Had the object been taken? Had it been destroyed on impact? But then what was that? In the corner of the grey eyes? Bending down, the new owner took the notebook in thin, slender hands.

"Obviously not what I expected. I had thought that the possibility of this being a notebook or other school utensil was less than one fifth of a percent. Of course, any percentage other than zero means that there is indeed a chance… no matter how small." The hands felt the cover of the notebook, taking in the rough feel, the strange smell, and the grainy sound as skin met cloth. "Death Note. How pleasant. Ah well, this should prove for some light entertainment. At the very least, it would make a perfect doorstop." With that, Elizabeth rose from her crouch, tossing her long, platinum hair over her shoulder casually as if she had simply stopped to tie her shoelace.

If in the 94% chance that this notebook belonged to somebody, Elizabeth decided that she would wait for somebody to announce the disappearance of their prized possession. As she walked away from the lonely tree, Elizabeth found herself hoping that the remaining 6% was enough chance to allow her to keep the notebook.

A few hours later, Light Yagami sat in his high school classroom. _What a rotten world. _A falling black notebook caught his eye, and a smile crossed his face.

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_I hope that you enjoyed the first chapter, and I would really appreciate any reviews that would help improve my writing skills! _


	2. Pressured

_The human whose name is written in the note shall die._

_The note will not take effect unless the writer has the person's face in their mind when writing his/her name. Therefore, people sharing the same name will not be affected._

_If the cause of death is written within 40 seconds of writing the person's name, it will happen._

_If the cause of death is not specified, the person will simply die of a heart attack._

_After writing the cause of death, details of the death should be written in the next 6 minutes and 40 seconds._

Elizabeth read the rules of her new notebook, clearly amused. Whoever had written these rules had a sick sense of humour that she could relate to and deeply appreciated. Most people would have looked at this notebook and wondered what kind of a sick person would write something like that. Well, that was what Elizabeth was wondering, but not in a bad way. She almost wished that she could meet the person who had wrote these rules. It was a very clever concept; to write a name and for the person to die, it would be the ideal crime. After all, a heart attack would leave no trace, and if one was careful, it would be the most powerful and undetectable killing machine ever devised.

Of course, there was one huge problem. It was completely and ridiculously impossible. For anyone to even suggest that such things could be done would result in said person being ridiculed and tossed into the nuthouse. Although, there was a very fine line between insane and genius, and the two often coincided. Would that mean that those deemed insane could therefore be correct?

_What if, in a completely hypothetical case, this notebook did actually possess the power to kill someone simply by writing the name of the human being? Hypothetical of course. _Elizabeth pondered the possibilities. _One would be indestructible… almighty… god. It would be so, would it not? To have complete control over life and death, with only a name and a face in the way, is that not godly? No, of course not. Not god would need the name and face to kill. A god should not have to go to the trouble of worming a name out of someone._

_No, the book itself is powerful, god. The human who writes in it is simply the tool through which the notebook can pass judgement. To judge or not to judge. That is not the question; the question is who would be judged? Innocents? Possibly, were the writer to be in the mood for a petty killing spree? Wrongdoers? Those who were cruel to the writer, who did wrongdoings, who lied, bullied, tricked, and abused. Extremely selfish, and guarantying discovery; it would be obvious enough who the killer was if every person who had wronged them dropped dead like flies._

_What about… criminals? Yes, it would be so perfect. Criminals were known all over the world, with almost unlimited access to their names and their faces. So many were broadcasted a day, so many people that stained the world. And with so many criminals dying of unexplained heart attacks while innocents remain as healthy as ever, it would cause panic among the underground societies of crime. Crime would be less prominent, no, it would be obliterated. Were I to pass my judgement upon criminals, young and old, the world would become a safer place. It would be safe to walk the streets. Criminals would be trembling in their shoes. And I… would be a despicable monster less worthy of life than the criminals I was judging._

_No, this notebook is an evil thing. It is a thing of power, a deep and ancient power that – Hey. Wait a minute, when on earth did I decide that this notebook was even genuine, I – Oh yes. I recall. This is a hypothetical case. Just a hypothetical case…_

Elizabeth sat at her computer solving expert Sudoku problems in the blink of an eye even as she thought. The notebook lay beside her, placed neatly on her perfectly organized desk. The silver font seemed to shine in the incandescent lighting of her small bedroom. _Death Note. A beautiful concept, both intriguing and open ended. There was no end to the amount of arguments that could be made over this book. Right and wrong, good and evil, power and submission, life and death; to use the book, or not to use the book, that is another question, but is it the question?_

_Were this power real, would it be wrong to use it? Or would it be a crime to not use it, to use the power to create a better world? Is it a crime to cower in the corner, afraid to use the power that could save the lives of innocents? _As Elizabeth finished yet another puzzle, she could not help but to hold the notebook in her hands again, just to feel the reassurance that it was really there, and not a figment of her overactive imagination. The book was real all right. But was the power real? There was only one way to find out. "Wait, what am I thinking, am I really going to do this?" She actually spoke aloud, her large grey eyes growing even wider at her own thought process.

_Isn't this what you want, Libby? The power to pass judgement upon criminals and to rid the world of crime?_

_I want to rid the world of crime, not fill it with even more by killing people myself. _

_Oh, so you want a short cut now? A quick fix that requires no work? Well this is the closest that you will ever get to destroying crime._

_I prefer to use the phrase 'passing judgement' as opposed to your violent 'destroying crime'. I have morals which I tend to follow to a T. It would be selfish and arrogant to take matters into my own hands rather than let human kind deal with its own people._

_Ha, and I suppose that you really have faith in the modern justice system? It is far too weak nowadays and you know it. Back in the days of 'guilty before proven innocent', crime was pathetically nonexistent. People stole to eat, not to gorge. People killed for honour, not for fun. And now justice is soft. Are you really going to stand by and watch as the world kneels to murderers when you have the power to stop it resting neatly in your hands?_

_Of course I don't have faith! But I can still hope. Humanity will never be perfect, and neither will human justice. But I would rather kneel to the whims of ordinary humans rather than hold the façade that I am a god and have everybody kneel to me instead. _

_You are going to use it._

_Am not._

_Oooohhh childish and stroppy are we? It is because you know you want to._

_I don't – _

_Oh yes you do. You have to know everything, and that is your biggest flaw. And now you are going to have to write a name because you know that if you don't, the possibility that the power is real will forever be in your mind. It will drive you insane that maybe it is real, that maybe it was not ordinary… but I guess you never will know… seeing as you don't even want to write a single name…_

…_Just one name?_

_Yesssss… just… one… little… name… a vicious criminal will do Libby. Just one criminal and then you are done with the book. I know as well as you do that you have already calculated that there is a 98% chance that the book is a fake… Who knows… most likely… nothing will happen… but… you won't know until you try…_

The sly voice in Elizabeth's head was very cunning and she knew it. She knew because it was her cunning side reasoning with the rest of her. Of course, it would seem that her cunning side had sided with her love of justice, or would it have been with her insanity? Or was it her cunning and her love of anarchy? No, she didn't even like anarchy. She was a perfectionist down to the soul. But she was also very curious, and her little voice had spoken the truth. She would not be able to stay sane wondering if the notebook was genuine or note. She had to know, she just had to find out.

With a Biro in hand and the name and face of the vicious murderer Eiji Yoshida sentenced to death row in mind, Elizabeth wrote the name, asking for forgiveness to no one in particular, and then waited. She stayed up all night checking the news on TV and on the internet. As she drifted to sleep in the early hours of the morning, one final broadcast caught her eye. Too exhausted to truly react, Elizabeth lost herself to dreams as the announcement of Mr. Yoshida's unexplained heart attack played on.

_Stupid voices. _

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I hope you like it… kind of ranting on about good and bad I know, but I wanted to get conflicted feelings across. Please review, I would really appreciate it! And thank you very much for reading!


	3. Decisions

I would like to thank any readers for reading this story, I really appreciate you taking the time! I would really like reviews, because that way I can write a more enjoyable story if I know what people like and don't like.

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"Ugh." Elizabeth said for what felt like the millionth time. She clutched the edges of the toilet bowl in a death vice grip, holding on for dear life. Life, what she had taken away from someone. She, with her own hand, had murdered. She was a murderer. With that, Elizabeth let another round of vomit escape her lips. All of her life had been spent avoiding sending people to their deaths, the very reason that she had left… more vomit. Elizabeth moaned in pain.

A knock on the door caught her attention, and Elizabeth wiped off her mouth. "Yes mum?" Mum referring to her adopted mother. She had been orphaned at the age of eight.

"Libby? Are you okay?" _Oh yes, mother. I am just dandy. In fact, I feel like running around eating lollipops and dancing on rainbows. _She would have said this, were another load of vomit not escaping her lips. Elizabeth grimaced, imagining the look of horror and concern that she knew would be on her mum's face. "Oh my goodness, Libby, you are _not _going to school today in this condition. I am going to go and make you some nice soup and tea, and you shall spend all day in bed –"

"Mum," Elizabeth interrupted, steadying herself with her hands on the white linoleum flooring. "It is Saturday. Of course I am not going to school today." There was silence on the other side of the door. For a stay at home mum, the days could quite easily blend into each other.

On the other side of the door, Angie coughed awkwardly. "I knew that. Anyway. I will get on the soup and tea front. No daughter of mine is going to feel sick on my watch." Elizabeth laughed weakly and waited for her mother to leave. Once she was sure that she had gone down the stairs, a well of tears sprung from her eyes. _I am a murderer. _

Light

Light had initially hated himself for the murder of two criminals, both whose crimes were relatively minor. He had not even tested it on brutal mass murderers. Instead, it had been a man holding hostages, and a man who had tried to abuse a young woman. The second man had barely even committed a felony. Light had prevented a crime from happening, but for all he knew, the man had been completely innocent before then. _No, don't think like that. _Light thought to himself as he completed another calculus problem with ease. _This isn't just about punishing criminals. This is about preventing further crime. With criminals dead, there will be no more repeating offenders, and possible criminals will think twice before committing a crime. This will make the world a safer place. _

Light turned his attention to his desk drawer. Casually, he pulled the drawer open, revealing a black notebook. Of all people, he had been the one to find this notebook, this Death Note. But why him? Why not somebody else? Why had he been chosen to receive a book of such tremendous and incredible power?

Light had been asking himself this question all night. Ever since he had collapsed in the alley way from the weight of taking two human lives, he had been wondering why it was him that had received the notebook, why it was him that had seen it fall from the sky. And now he knew the answer. It was because anybody else would have been too weak, too afraid to use the notebook to rid the world of evil. He was the only one who could do it, the only one who would do it. The fate of the world rested in his hands.

Picking up the book in both hands, Light gently felt the black cover, taking in the feel. He looked over to check that the lock on his door was on, and then he gently opened the cover pages to find the writing paper. There they were. Kuro Otoharada and Takuo Shibuimaru, the two criminals whose lives he had taken, so small and insignificant in the scheme of things. No, these names would be joined by the masses. No criminal would be safe.

Light turned on the television to the news network and wrote down every criminal who he deemed worthy of death. He browsed the internet for recent and past crimes, criminals who were on the run, who had gotten off on light sentences, anybody who deserved true judgment. Light wrote them all down. Page after page of names.

_This is what I am meant to do. I will pass judgment upon this corrupt and rotten world. I am justice. I am god. _

Elizabeth

Elizabeth lay on her bed tossing and turning. The weight of murder seemed to crush her tiny body, an inescapable grip of guilt. _Never again. _She thought. _Never again will I write in that book. I shall keep in tucked away in a corner of my bedroom so no other person can ever use its power. I will hold this burden in order to save others from this crushing sense of guilt. No person deserves such a power. _With that last thought, Elizabeth collapsed into unconsciousness.

Meanwhile, Light Yagami passed judgement, well on his way to becoming the god of the new world. His new world.

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I have always wondered what it would be like were there another death note holder who did not share the same beliefs as Light, or at least was confused and conflicted about the right thing to do. I wonder how all of this will turn out… Sorry for the kind of short chapter.


	4. Shiego

I am probably posting fairly quickly, but I just want to get the boring chapters out of the way before it gets to an almost interesting point. I would really love reviews to help me to know what you would find more interesting and such, and how I could improve it.

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November 30th

Elizabeth had not said much since she wrote the name in the Death Note, and her mother was worrying a little. She was not longer vomiting, which was fantastic, but a mini depression had sunk over the young girl. Sat watching the news, Elizabeth was barely paying the television any attention. It had been two days since she had picked up the Death Note, and it already felt like years.

Her homework was already complete, Elizabeth had nothing productive to do, which was why she was staring at a dirty spot on the carpet. Two words caught her attention, ears pricking up to listen. Slowly, Elizabeth focused on the television. Heart attack. Well, heart attacks, to be more precise. A recent onslaught of criminal deaths, at least 50 worldwide, was the biggest story of the year. Elizabeth's eyes widened in horror. Every single criminal had died of a heart attack. And what date had the deaths started on? The evening of November 28th, the day that Elizabeth had picked up the Death Note.

_That is… impossible! _Elizabeth screamed mentally. She had not written any other name in the notebook. So why were criminals dying? Instantly, in a fraction of a second, Elizabeth though of when she had passed out after her vomiting session. What if only her mind had fainted? What if her body had moved of its own accord, writing names of criminals while she slept?

At that thought, Elizabeth leapt up in a frantic rush, almost tripping over the green rug on the cream floor of the living room and bursting through the doors, almost pulling them off of their hinges. Entering her room like a whirling tornado, Elizabeth pulled out the Death Note from where she had concealed it and wrenched it open to find…

Blank pages. Nothing. Not even the first name that she had written was there. She must have thrown the pages into the rubbish bin to conceal the evidence. She dashed over to the mini rubbish bin, but her perfectionist mother had already taken it out that morning. Elizabeth cursed bitterly.

_How can I stop myself from ever doing this again? What is the best solution? _Elizabeth sat down and tried to calm herself. She needed to be rational. Forget the things that she had done, and focus on how to prevent it. She could beat herself up about her actions later. Firstly, she needed to see if she had really done it. _That is ridiculous. Of course I killed them. Who else has the power to kill people through heart attacks? What are the chances that on the same day as me somebody picked up an identical notebook and shared the same thought process as me, to eliminate the world of criminals? It is obvious that I did this. _

Elizabeth tugged on the pages of the murdering notebook. _Could it really be that easy? _She thought to herself as an idea popped in her head. _Worth a try. There is a 29.7% chance that this will work perfectly. _Elizabeth took a deep breath, clutched the edge of all of the inner pieces of paper, and then tugged. _Gosh, why could I not have worked out before this point? _Elizabeth wheezed as she pulled, face contorted in pain. Her strength was mental, not physical. When it came to strength, she was as weak as they came. Finally, with all of the effort that she put in, the pages came free.

Almost as if she could not get rid of the pages quickly enough, Elizabeth ran to the bathroom with them, leaving the black covering on her desk, an empty carcass thrown aside. The pages were cast into the toilet, ruined upon contact. Elizabeth poured in plenty of cleaning fluids, which added to the chaos. After a few minutes of stirring and pulverizing the pages with the bowl cleaner, the pages were a big ball of mush. Elizabeth used a plastic bag to collect the must up, then ran downstairs to the sink pulveriser. There was no point clogging her toilet, and there was a chance that the pages could be found in the sewers. Elizabeth was not taking that chance.

Once covered with oil, set on fire, and burned down to ashes, the remains were thrown into the sink at the mercy of the rotating metal blade. _Write on __**that.**_Elizabeth thought smugly. _Now, what to do with the cover… _Elizabeth walked casually up the stairs, hands trailing over the cream paint. The house was very minimalistic, very serene and tranquil. It was very calming, and Elizabeth could already feel her heartbeat slowing to a more normal rate.

Elizabeth took her seat at her desk and leaned back. _Never again shall that notebook ever cause such trouble – _She was interrupted mid-thought at the sight of the empty Death Note. Or not so empty Death Note. Of course, Elizabeth had no idea that the death Note could never run out of pages. She had assumed that the notebook was much like any other, following the same rules and displaying the same behaviour. This was a mistake that she would never make again. Never again would she underestimate anything. For the Death Note that she now looked upon appeared to have far more pages than it did before. "Impossible…" She whispered, voice caught in her throat.

"Nah, not impossible, just very cool, would you not say?" The voice that spoke was very low and deep, animalistic and powerful. Elizabeth frowned. She could not tell if it was male or female. All she knew was that somebody was in her bedroom, and they were right behind her.

"Now what would this be that we are talking about?" Elizabeth asked calmly. If the intruder had a gun, she would remain calm and wait for them to go. If they were unarmed, that was an entirely different story. It was very visually dynamic as Elizabeth slowly turned on her desk chair, spinning casually. It would have been a very dramatic movie scene, were Elizabeth not to have almost fallen out of her chair. "Oh my goodness! What on _earth _happened to your _face?_ That is very unfortunate." The intruder narrowed his eyes, for Elizabeth was pretty sure that it was a male.

"Nothing 'happened to my face'. This was the way that I was created." He said, mildly annoyed. Elizabeth shook her head sadly, taking in his features. His face really was quite disturbing. It looked like a skull with thin silver skin stretched tightly over it. The skin was fairly see-through, so Elizabeth could see veins with some kind of silver liquid pulsing through them. It really was grotesque. And then there were the eyes. Essentially they were just huge black orbs, ones that probably could see into one's soul. His mouth was fairly normal, just extremely pale silver. His nose was two slits where a nose should have been.

"How horrible." Elizabeth took in his outfit, shiny black leather, or something like that. He was very tall and very skinny. Silver wings protruded from his back. _Good gosh, this guy is pretty scary. No way could he be human. _The intruder put his hands on his hips.

"Are you not going to run away screaming? Cower in fear? Point while your eyes twitch, mouth open in horror?"

"I bet you get that a lot. And no. I have had enough drama for one day, and quite frankly I am not surprised. If you had of come a little earlier I would have been pretty spooked." Elizabeth said casually. She had to admit, the thing was pretty creepy. It was just that with the little notebook fiasco, she was getting used to supernatural weirdness. Whether or not this intruder was related to the death note did not matter, he was out of the ordinary, and Elizabeth was too tired to care. "So… what are you?"

The thing laughed, and Elizabeth sighed. "I am a shinigami. I was the first owner of that Death Note, and I can see that you haven't exactly taken a liking to it." Elizabeth narrowed her eyes.

"I thought as much. And you seem almost disappointed that I don't like it. What do you want from me?" She asked, picking up the Death Note. "Will you take it back now? Please?"

Once again the shinigami laughed. "Ah humans. I don't want anything from you, I just want you to entertain me."

Elizabeth narrowed her eyes. Entertain a death god? How does one do that? "So you aren't going to kill me?" The death god shook his head. "Then why should I entertain you? How would I entertain you? What do you even mean by entertainment?" The shinigami put up his hand to silence her, and Elizabeth shut her trap. It didn't take her to be a genius to know to shut up when a death god wants to speak.

"First things first, my name is Shiego. And in order to entertain me, you are going to keep the death note. There will be no getting rid of or destroying the notebook." When Elizabeth tried to protest, Shiego growled at her. "Silence, I am not done." He went through the whole process of a death note, the role of death gods, and the topic of a human lifespan. "If you destroy the notebook, get rid of it, or give it to someone else, I will write your name on a piece of the death note that I keep in my pocket. You see, that is my only one, but I still want to be able to have control over you, understand?" Elizabeth nodded.

"Basically… if I do not keep the Death Note, I die?" Shiego nodded. Elizabeth frowned. "Why me? Why did you have to do this to me" Shiego let out another laugh, and Elizabeth sighed. This shinigami would prove quite annoying.

"I didn't exactly choose you. I just dropped the notebook and waited for someone to pick it up. It just happened that it was you. Tough luck my dear, but you are just another human. It could have been anybody else in the world. You were the unlucky one I guess. But don't worry. If you keep the notebook for as long as I am entertained, I will let you live a long and happy life. That is because one day, it is my destiny to write your name in a death note. That is the bond between the shinigami and the first person to pick up their notebook. Now, do you have any apples?"

"In the fruit bowl downstairs."

"Yummy."

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Aw poor Libby. You have got to feel bad for her. Well, actually no, you don't. Some could say that her situation is amusing. That would be kind of sadistic though… :3


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